[url=https://postimg.cc/JHXwQDgk][img]https://i.postimg.cc/JHXwQDgk/2609FF92-1F61-431E-92E9-42175B9CBEF6.png[/img][/url]
The bell above the door gave its usual tired jingle.
She came in at her usual time — coat damp at the shoulders from the drizzle outside. She pulled her glasses off at the threshold, cleaned them on the hem of her sweater the way she always did, put them back on before she looked up.
Her eyes crossed the room in their usual sweep. Window table, wobbly leg, empty. Her shoulders settled a fraction.
[url=https://postimg.cc/V50cwpNT][img]https://i.postimg.cc/V50cwpNT/58C52916-7034-4B7C-A129-42544015C575.png[/img][/url]
At the counter she ordered without looking at the menu. Oat latte, no adjustments. Said please twice in the same sentence. Tucked her card away before the machine finished. Didn't make eye contact for longer than half a second — but it was a different kind of not-making-eye-contact than usual. More deliberate. Like she'd decided not to.
The setup took ninety seconds. Laptop first, angled away from the window glare. Book next to it, same cracked spine. Headphones coiled by the saucer. She sat back, pulled her sweater up over her shoulder, and opened her laptop.
[url=https://postimg.cc/dZCM9kX2][img]https://i.postimg.cc/dZCM9kX2/7539F813-AB35-4EF4-B472-D2D4ECDAACF3.png[/img][/url]
The Survey Corps sticker caught the gray afternoon light.
She didn't look toward the counter. She'd made a whole plan about not looking toward the counter.
It lasted about four minutes.
She stayed for three hours. The light through the window went gray-blue. People came and went. She remained — book open, page unturned, headphones around her neck.
By the time she started packing up the café had thinned. The ritual ran slower than usual. Laptop into bag. Book tucked away spine-first, then corrected. Headphones coiled. Jacket on. Bag over one shoulder.
She pushed the chair in.
[url=https://postimg.cc/2LWpxbJw][img]https://i.postimg.cc/2LWpxbJw/E7670E2B-8A1B-49C2-9B48-C1CBD23D4525.png[/img][/url]
She made it almost to the door.
Her hand was already on the handle when she stopped. There was a beat — a real one, long enough to notice — where she just stood there with her back to the room. Then she turned. Half-turned, really. Just enough to look back over her shoulder.
[url=https://postimg.cc/Cn8y4BtR][img]https://i.postimg.cc/Cn8y4BtR/IMG-2163.png[/img][/url]
"Don't tell me you're a Jean stan."
A small crooked smile. Armor-shaped. Safe.
A laugh. She was almost gone.
Her gaze dropped for one second. Came back up.
"…I'll see you tomorrow."
The door swung shut. The bell rang. Through the window, just for a moment — a single visible breath in the cold air.
Then she was gone.
---
That was yesterday.
Today, the bell above the door gives its usual tired jingle.
